Trigger finger
traces path to Iliad
and Cain
Cannon
blasts me
back to dawn
where blood
nourishes
olive trees of Babel
And words
are lost
on those who
never learn
as we trod
aimless
mired in
the unforgiving mud
of war

Abridged Lover

You came
with Nirvana offerings
vaporized
my steeled palisades
melding our souls
with singularity
just once
then said
fare well.
And I did

A Lament For The Fallen

No monuments
nor marker sticks remain

‘neath shell-scarred banyans
on the plain

where thousands lie
in blood-soaked dress

in eternal rest.

No God damned flags
wave profane

where dying hordes
took their last breaths.

No honor guards
or eternal flame

no credits
for eternal pain

of those
who loved them,

except for words
in unread tomes.

Only empty words remain.

The Language of God

The language of God
isn’t found
in Holy Books

Nor in sermons
shouted to the blind

Nor in gilded Temples
Adorned with riches
pillaged
from the lambs

The language of God
isn’t spoken by
the prayerful

whose prayers
cast skyward
are silenced
by the winds

The language of God
is in the beat
of a hummingbird’s
wings
felt loudly
in my ear

As I bask,
eyes closed
while conscious
of the splendor
of my Sun.

Imperfect Om

Oh Siddhartha
bearer of
the perfect Om

whose timeless river flows
without ebb

Where is my solace
in Om?

Mine will not
yet connect

remains broken

Open

and spills
my tears
for our world.

I journey on.

The Light Beckons

Prophet Light beckons
battle-scarred souls

Of those weary

Yet damned

To continue
the fight

From deep within

Darkness

Reaching

Reaching

Reaching

For the light

Waiting For The Beast to Fall

Spilled soulless
and deformed
from antiquity’s womb

Of greed wed to victim blood
and merchant power

deeded money-changer Pharisees
Gamblers all.

Arising then
for Napoleon

And Bolshevik-Zio thieves
of lives

again to fund
world twice at war

Victor-melds
To rule all

How long
must survivors wait
For the Beast to fall?

OF WAR (that is eternal)

Another netherworld journey;
melding briefly with kindred souls

whose blasted bits of scattered flesh and bone
left screams with those long silent (to others)

Children, limp and soft;
And torn (so badly torn!)
Where did they go?

After mentoring those like me
who came with arms,
and killed them?

Sleep won’t come softly;
And it shouldn’t.

— Unnamed former warrior

Landing Zone Baldwin

Dragonfly silhouette
lifts off at dusk

Fading blades beat wind
below emerging stars

Then silence
save distant gun thunder

As night death
stalks invisible
just beyond the wire

Outside my bedroom

Just a ceiling fan this time

An Activist’s Marriage

Have you never heard of Burning Man
Where desert blooms in human
play

Or of Dante or de Sade
Or of brothels
of Pompeii

Do you not know
Which WILL in you ?
(Adler, Nietzche, Freud)

or that Will To Power
often trumps
Will To Meaning’s meaning?

Have you never worked with Bertolt Brecht
or been repulsed by dead Ayn Rand?
Stood righteously on picket lines,
warred mistakenly for Rand’s dead hand?

Soul-bled with Marx and Hugo
Despaired for those deprived
Glimpsed mind
of God and Hawking
(they are ONE, you know)

Can’t you see the dreadful loss
behind white aloha smiles
Or grieve at Wounded Knee with me
and walk my wounded miles

Wrapped in family
As you are
Blind to others tears
Such divergent paths
we trod
Where to now from here?

At the Sea

Cool sand still damp from morning mist

warming now by early sun.

Gulls breakfast in receding tide

sharing kinship with the waves

that draw me back to primal roots

embedded in the sea.

Foreboding of the Prophets

Crumbling codices
inked in universal wisdom-blood

Warned of keepers of the Scroll;
Those dark-stained by connivance

Whose death-legacy
exacts a heavy toll.

Sparked to flame again
by sulfur-smell of money

In power they remain.

Of Family and Friends

Decaying brains

Suckling plasma screen venom

With nothing to offer

In defense

of liberty

and noble quests.

They only suckle

And breathe.

Chunks of Me Gone

Blast-strewn bits of bone still wet
Were left of men
Our brothers
War numbers